dowɴ ιɴ тнe dαrĸ
by SwiftintheSky
Summary: Littlecloud lived through Brokenstar's reign. He knows what it's like, to be at war with the world, to watch your friends fall around you, to have to wake up each morning and face the same. This is his story. (Hopefully) first in a series of fanfics covering ShadowClan's story during the first arc of Warriors.
1. Allegiances & Prologue

**A/N: Welcome to my new story! Okay, I know what you're thinking if you've read my stories before - you can barely manage to update the ones you have, and you're starting _another_ one?!**

**Well, the short answer is... yes.**

**But this is more of a side project than anything else, and it shouldn't be too long, so I'm just updating when I have inspiration, and not trying to tie myself to a schedule or anything. Plus, I've been having fun writing it, so I figured, heck, why not post it?**

**Anyway, on to what this story is! _Life in the Shadows_ is a story from Littlecloud's POV during Brokenstar's reign. It'll cover time from when he's two moons old up until the end of _Into the Wild_. So, yes, it will cover a little of the same ground that _Yellowfang's Secret_ did, but the events in the story will be mostly original. :) I'm excited to continue ShadowClan's saga past _Yellowfang's Secret!_**

**Disclaimer: Rated T for adult themes, violence, and (probably) cursing. The prologue earns the T rating, just a heads up.**

* * *

**SHADOWCLAN**

**Leader:** Brokenstar - Huge dark brown tabby tom with a ragged, scarred pelt, a broad, flat face, bright amber eyes, and a tail bent in the middle like a broken branch.

**Deputy:** Blackfoot - Large, muscular white tom with amber eyes and large, jet-black paws, one of which has six toes.

**Medicine cat:** Yellowfang - Scarred dark grey she-cat with round orange eyes, a long, matted pelt, torn ears, and a broad, flat face.  
_Apprentice, Runningnose_

**Warriors:** Brackenfoot - Pale ginger tom with dark ginger legs and orange eyes.  
Brightflower - Orange tabby she-cat with a broad, flat face and wide-set amber eyes.  
Mudclaw - Grey tom with brown legs and green eyes.  
Toadskip - Dark brown tabby tom with white splashes and white legs; green eyes.  
Nettlespot - Thin white she-cat with ginger flecks and green eyes.  
Mousewing - Long-furred black tom with blue eyes.  
Amberleaf - Dark orange she-cat with brown legs and ears.  
Finchflight - Black-and-white tom with yellow eyes.  
Blizzardwing - Mottled white tom with icy blue eyes.  
Frogtail - Dark grey tom with green eyes.  
Ashheart - Pale grey she-cat with blue eyes.  
Scorchwind - Ginger tabby tom with amber eyes.  
Nutwhisker - Brown tom with amber eyes.  
Rowanberry - Cream-and-brown she-cat with amber eyes.  
Wolfstep - Long-furred dark grey tom with amber eyes.  
Russetfur - Small, sleek dark ginger tabby she-cat with dark green eyes.  
Boulder - Skinny silver-grey tabby tom with a torn ear and dark blue eyes.  
Clawface - Sturdy, heavily built, battle-scarred brown tom with amber eyes.  
Flintfang - Grey tom with amber eyes.  
Deerfoot - Dark brown tom with green eyes.  
Tangleburr - Mottled grey-brown she-cat with green eyes.  
Stumpytail - Brown tabby tom with a short, stumpy tail and dark green eyes.  
Cinderfur - Thin grey tom with yellow eyes.

**Apprentices:** Runningnose - Small grey-and-white tom with yellow eyes and a continuously runny nose.

**Queens:** Featherstorm - Dark brown tabby she-cat with yellow eyes. (Mate = Blizzardwing; kits = Dawnkit, Mosskit, & Volekit.)  
Newtspeck - Black-and-ginger she-cat with green eyes. (Mate = Nutwhisker; kits = Littlekit, Wetkit, & Brownkit.)  
Fernshade - Tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes. (Mate = Wolfstep; kit = Badgerkit.)

**Kits: **Volekit - Pale brown tom with yellow eyes.  
Mosskit - Large brown-and-white tabby tom with green eyes.  
Dawnkit - Small pale grey tabby she-cat with blue eyes.  
Littlekit - Very small pale brown tabby tom with light blue eyes and a brown nose.  
Wetkit - grey tabby tom with blue eyes.  
Brownkit - Brown tom with green eyes.  
Badgerkit - Fluffy black-and-white tom with markings on his face that resemble a badger's and yellow eyes.

**Elders:** Poolcloud - Pale grey-and-white she-cat with blue eyes.  
Crowtail - Small black tabby she-cat with green eyes.  
Archeye - Green-eyed grey tabby tom with black stripes, including a thick stripe over one eye.  
Hollyflower - Dark grey-and-white she-cat with dark green eyes.  
Deerleap - Grey tabby she-cat with white legs and green eyes.  
Nightpelt - Small, lean black tom with amber eyes and a short, glossy pelt.

* * *

** THUNDERCLAN**

**Leader:** Bluestar - Old blue-gray she-cat with piercing blue eyes and a scar over one shoulder.

**Deputy:** Redtail - Small tortoiseshell tom with amber eyes and tufted ears.

**Medicine cat:** Spottedleaf - Pretty tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with golden eyes.

* * *

** WINDCLAN**

**Leader:** Tallstar - Elderly black-and-white tom with yellow eyes and a long tail.

**Deputy:** Deadfoot - Small, lean black tom with a twisted paw and yellow eyes.

**Medicine cat:** Barkface - Short-tailed brown tom with dark green eyes.

* * *

** RIVERCLAN**

**Leader:** Crookedstar - Huge light brown tabby tom with green eyes and a crooked jaw.

**Deputy:** Oakheart - Large dark reddish-brown tom with amber eyes.

**Medicine cat:** Mudfur - Old, mottled, long-haired light brown tom with a pale belly and green eyes.

* * *

**Prologue**

The WindClan cats roiled around them, screeching and yowling. The scent of blood hung thick in the air. The dark brown tabby bared his teeth in a savage snarl as he raked his claws down the face of a ginger she-cat. The WindClan warrior screamed and rolled away; he leaped on her and tore at her belly before finally letting her run away.

But there were too many enemies, that much was clear. They battered the ShadowClan cats like an angry tide, an army of lean, wiry, rabbit-breathed warriors keen on defeating the trespassers. Yes, they were going to lose.

And he was fine with that.

Someone bumped into him from behind, and he whirled, hissing, only to blink into his father's face. "You and me against the world," the dark tabby, so much like his son, panted. He grinned. "The two of us against the four of them."

They were on their own, back-to-back, while their Clanmates tussled a foxlength away.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He lunged, he and a black tom crashing to the ground in a knot of fur and claws. Suddenly, a screech rent the air. The brown tomcat thrust his opponent powerfully to the ground and turned just in time to see his father collapse in a spray of blood. While he was distracted, the warrior beneath him kicked up powerfully, sending him skidding across the ground. The ShadowClan cat found his paws quickly and ran back into the fray, leaping and jumping and dodging and weaving, attack after attack after attack. Battle sang in his veins and roared in his ears, building to a thrumming crescendo in his soul. For the first time in moons he felt truly alive. Then he sprang tackled knockedtotheground, a tabby writhing beneath him as he sank in his teeth.

One WindClan cat let out a terrified yowl as he stepped away. The tabby hacked once and went still as blood pooled around her. The three remaining opponents fled.

The dark brown tom turned to his father.

The leader of ShadowClan lay still on the ground. His pelt, thick and matted, was torn by

torn by fresh wounds across his shoulder, his flanks, his stomach. Blood trickled sluggishly from a gash in his neck, seeping slowly into the dirt.

The tom stirred and gasped as his son drew near. "B... Brokentail," he rasped.

"Yes, Father?" Brokentail mewed quietly.

The tabby struggled to sit up and didn't quite succeed; his amber eyes were still hazy and unfocused with the trace of death. "Are.. d-did we beat them?"

"Yes, Father."

Brokentail took a few steps forward, until he was standing over the ShadowClan leader. He felt for a moment that he would not go through with it. WindClan was supposed to have killed him. He should not have to. Then he thought of leadership - leadership - and what the Clan could be, would be without his kittypet of a father at the helm.

He swallowed and unsheathed bloody claws that glinted in the sunlight.

"I'm sorry, Father."

He raised his paw  
watched his father's eyes stretch wide -  
"Brokentail, what are you - "  
gritted his teeth

and struck.

The wound was deep and long and wide.

Raggedstar's eyes went even wider.

He let out a horrible choking noise as blood rushed from the wound. It pooled around his head, staining the grass in a sticky puddle. It spread rapidly, and he hacked as blood began to run from his mouth. His eyes - oh StarClan, his eyes, filled with unbelievable pain and betrayal. Then the light faded from his agonized gaze, only to return a few moments later as his body blazed back to life.

Behind them, the battle raged.

Raggedstar struggled to form a word. "Wh... Why?" Then his muscles spasmed and death claimed him again.

When he came back this time, he was too weak to do much more than twitch. He locked his gaze to Brokentail's. Brokentail met it, a single shudder passing through his entire body.

One more time StarClan sent him back, and one more time Brokentail watched the light fade from his eyes. As he fell still, completely, totally still, breath leaving him for the last time, Brokentail's paws shook, if only slightly, a tiny tremble barely detectable to any onlooker.

The battle finished, with yowls of "Retreat! Retreat!" from Deerfoot. The ShadowClan warriors pelted for the border only to scramble to a stop and stare in shock as they saw Brokentail standing over his father's dead body.

"The WindClan cats," Brokentail rasped. His voice was husky with grief. "They killed him. I killed the cat that did it, but..." His gaze slid to the tabby she-cat whose throat he had slit. The other cats were shocked, too shocked for themselves to comfort Raggedstar's son. They offered to carry him, but the deputy refused. Brokentail alone carried his father home, Yellowfang striding by his side, her orange eyes hollow.

Brokentail alone laid Raggedstar to rest in the clearing, announcing his death to the Clan, listening to their yowls of astonishment.

Brokentail alone demanded to get his nine lives that night, hearing his father's dying words ring in his ears, seeing his eyes fade again and again.

And Brokentail alone knew what had really, truly happened that day, leaving him all by himself as the WindClan warriors had fled, leaving him all by himself with his leader at his paws.

_I'm sorry, Father... but this is only the beginning._


	2. Chapter One: Things Soon to Come

**A/N: Chapter One is here already! And I'm halfway done on Chapter Two! Woot! Anyway, thanks for Sandtail for reviewing. I hope I won't disappoint. ;) Without further ado... I give you the first chapter!**

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Morning light filtered in through the branches, dappling Littlekit's pelt. Wakefulness came to him hazily. The warm pelts of his mother and brothers pressed on his on all sides, making him feel safe and cozy. He shifted and rolled onto his back, letting the sun light his soft belly fur. His nose twitched suddenly as he inhaled a mote of dust, or two or three or five. His eyes flew open and he sneezed, a small, dry sound that nevertheless roused both him and his brother. Wetkit stirred, his yellow eyes opening into irate slits.

"Can't you _evew_ be quiet?" he complained with a yawn. Littlekit shrugged, turning to blink at their mother. Newtspeck was still asleep, but she wouldn't be for long. She was rarely asleep when her kits were awake - some sixth sense that mothers possessed, or something.

"We should pway," Littlekit mewed.

"Pway what?" Wetkit asked suspiciously.

"Umm - I dunno. Hey, whewe's Vowekit?" The small brown tabby glanced around. The den walls encircled him, forming a snug space that still had enough room for all of them. Fernshade dozed in a nearby nest, curled protectively around her only kit, little one-moon-old Badgerkit. But Featherstorm and her young were nowhere to be seen. Littlekit frowned,

"Weww, wet's wake up Bwownkit and go find him!" Wetkit exclaimed impatiently.

By "let's", he meant "Littlekit". The small brown tabby rolled over and nudged their littermate. Brownkit shifted only slightly; the young tom had always been a heavy sleeper. Littlekit stared helplessly, not wanting to harm or annoy his brother, when Wetkit suddenly pounced on Brownkit from behind. The brown tom jumped, limbs splaying everywhere, and scrabbled away from Wetkit, baring his teeth angrily.

"Aw, c'mon, Bwownkit," Wetkit meowed, "how ewse was I s'posed to wake you up? You sweep wike a wog."

Brownkit glared for a moment longer, then gave in with a sigh, though he still looked disgruntled.

"We'we gonna find Vowekit," Wetkit informed him. "And pway wif him."

Brownkit huffed and trotted forward. He was quickly overtaken as Wetkit shot out of the den, Littlekit tumbling after him. They exploded into a bright newleaf morning. Though it was unusually warm for this early in the season - or so the queens said - Littlekit's pelt fluffed up against the crisp air. It was a lot colder outside the nursery than inside.

He spotted Volekit almost instantly; the young brown tom was play-fighting with his siblings while their mother watched over them fondly from a couple of tail-lengths away. Wetkit charged across the clearing toward him; Littlekit and Brownkit scrambled to keep up. "My wegs awe showtew than youws," Littlekit complained, looking put out, as they came to a stop.

Wetkit ignored him. "Vowekit! What awe you pwaying? Can we pway?"

Volekit gave the younger grey kit a cold look. "We're playing _fighting_. I'm Brokenstar, and Mosskit is Reedfeather."

"I'ww be Bwackfoot!" Wetkit exclaimed. "It'ww be awesome! We can be a team!"

Volekit's nose wrinkled. "No way. You're too little."

Mosskit, his littermate, nodded. "Yeah. Especially _you_, Littlekit."

"What?! I'm not too wittwe!" Littlekit yowled. His fluffy brown tail lashed, blue eyes flashing with hurt.

"I'm biggew than any ob them!" Wetkit broke in. (He spoke the truth.) "Wet me pway, at weast!"

"You'll let them _all_ play, Volekit, or you'll have me to answer to." The voice was firm, authoritative, and threatening. Featherstorm towered over them, yellow eyes flashing angrily. She was dozens of times bigger than Littlekit, or so it seemed, and his ears flattened with fright.

"Aww, but look," Volekit argued. "They're scaredy-cats!"

"Volekit, you be nice to your denmates this instant," Featherstorm thundered, "or you'll be stuck in the nursery for the rest of the day!"

Volekit's tail flicked from side to side, ears flattened in irritation. "Fine," he huffed. "Wetkit, you're Blackfoot. Littlekit, you're, um... you. Brownkit, you're - "

"I don't wanna be me!" Littlekit protested. "I wanna be - um - " Unfortunately, he didn't know anyone else famous. His racing mind latched on to the last unclaimed cat he knew without a doubt was awesome. "I wanna be Nutwhiskew!"

Volekit gawked. "Your _dad?!_"

Littlekit looked uncomfortable. "Well... um... yeah!"

The four-moon-old brown kit snorted derisively, as if to say, _what am I going to do with you?_

"You guys are jerks," a sixth kit spoke up. It was Dawnkit, their sister and the only she-kit in the nursery. Her grey-and-white tabby pelt was fluffed up in anger, and her blue eyes were narrowed. "Let's play something else, Littlekit, Brownkit."

"Okay," Littlekit meowed, a little dejectedly. He threw a hot glare at the older litter as Dawnkit led him away, Brownkit hot on their heels. They ended up next to the elders' den, by a patch of ferns. Brownkit cocked his head to one side expectantly, his way of saying, _so what's next?_

Dawnkit hesitated; she didn't seem to have had a plan for what they would play. "Umm... hunting? Or, no! Spies! Spies!" Her blue eyes gleam with excitement.

"Ooh, yeah! Wet's pway that! Bwownkit, you wanna pway that?" Littlekit turned to his brother; Brownkit nodded enthusiastically, his green eyes shining. Brownkit was often forgotten, and it was up to Littlekit to make sure he got a say. Well, in a metaphorical sense. The one thing you had to understand about Brownkit was that he never, ever talked. Volekit made fun of him for that, and sometimes Littlekit heard the other queens whispering things he was glad Brownkit didn't have to hear. But the brown tom wasn't stupid. He just didn't talk. Or couldn't. Besides that, he was exactly like anyone else, and he was Littlekit's best friend - especially since Wetkit was always obsessing over Featherstorm's litter.

"I'm Dawnstar, leader of ShadowClan!" Dawnkit declared, puffing out her chest. "And you two are my top warriors, umm... Littlefang, and... Brown... Brownshadow!"

"Littlefang" grinned. "What's ouw mission today, Dawnstaw?"

"Um..." She considered for a moment, then lifted her chin importantly. "You're going to spy on ThunderClan! Those foxhearts are always trying to steal our prey!"

"Yesss! Come on, Brownshadow! This way!" Littlekit exclaimed. He dashed off halfway across camp, with both of the others racing after him.

"Grrrr!" Dawnkit suddenly roared. She jumped in front of the two younger kits, causing them to try to scramble to a stop. However, it didn't entirely work, and Littlekit went plowing straight into her fluffy grey-and-white fur; he and Brownkit tumbled to the ground, while she staggered slightly from the impact. She then circled them, stifling giggles as she tried to be threatening: "Grr, I'm Redtail! You're not gonna get away with this, you mangy spies!"

"Says who?" Littlekit stuck out his tongue at her. "Come on, Bwownshadow! Fow ShadowCwan!" With that, he jumped on Dawnkit's back. His brother joined them, both holding on with little claws barely pricking her skin, play-biting ferociously at her scruff. She fell beneath their combined weight, laughing all the way. Littlekit crowed in victory and gnawed playfully on her ear as Brownkit pummeled her spine under kit-soft paws.

"You win! You win! I surrender!" Dawnkit yowled in mock horror. "The might of ShadowClan's best warriors is too strong for any ThunderClan cat!"

Littlekit and Brownkit leaped off of her, beaming. "We won, Bwownshadow! We won!" Brownkit grinned, tail straight up in the air. He bounced around in a little happy dance that was a Brownkit trademark.

Wetkit suddenly came barrelling across the clearing towards them. "Hey! Dawnkit! Youw mom says you - "

A loud yowl interrupted the grey tabby, who stopped and looked towards it in puzzlement. Dawnkit sat up, shaking scraps of dirt and leaf off of her ruffled pelt. _Brokenstar!_ Littlekit gazed up at his leader in admiration. The dark brown tom was the strongest, fiercest cat in the Clan. Before he was leader, the Clan was weak, but now everyone knew the best battle moves in the forest! Legend had it his tail was broken when he avenged Raggedstar's death against those WindClan cats, and that he took out five of them at once. Newtspeck always told them that that wasn't true and they shouldn't believe everything they heard, but looking at the tabby tom, proud and powerful on the Clanrock, Littlekit suddenly had no doubt that it was the truth.

"Featherstorm!" Brokenstar yowled. "Where are your kits?"

Littlekit's ears pricked; Brokenstar wanted Featherstorm's kits at the meeting? That was unusual. Featherstorm seemed to think so, too; her yellow eyes were stretched wide with surprise.

"They just went in for a nap, Brokenstar," she replied. "And besides, they aren't old enough to catch their own prey."

"They're members of the Clan, too," Brokenstar responded brusquely. "Fetch them."

Featherstorm's fur ruffled, but she ducked into the nursery and emerged moments later with Volekit and Mosskit, who blinked a little groggily in the bright light; having been resigned to taking a nap, this must have been surprising for them. Dawnkit stood, looking poised at the edge of the cliff, probably wondering whether or not she should run over and join them. Featherstorm gave her a sharp look and mouthed something to the grey-and-white she-cat; Dawnkit threw her friends an apologetic look and hurried to sit beside her siblings.

"ShadowClan needs more apprentices if we are to keep the other Clans in their place," Brokenstar thundered. "Mosskit, step forward."

Mosskit's eyes stretched wide with shock. He took a few steps forward, when someone suddenly interrupted: "Brokenstar! He's only four moons old! He's too young to be an apprentice!" Yellowfang had emerged from her den at the side of the Clanrock; the old she-cat's orange eyes glittered angrily as she challenged Brokenstar.

"I am the leader and it is my decision," Brokenstar snapped "Who are you to question me?" Yellowfang still looked furious, but she didn't say anything more. Brokenstar turned back to Mosskit, warmth returning to his tone as he meowed, "Mosskit, from this day forward until you earn your warrior name you will be known as Mosspaw. I will be your mentor."

Mosspaw's jaw dropped open in shock. The Clan leader - his _mentor?!_ Littlekit, Brownkit, and Wetkit shared astonished glances, barely believing their ears.

"What about me?" Volekit cried. He sent his brother a jealous glare. "I should get to be an apprentice, too!"

"When you're as big as your brother, I'll make you an apprentice, too," Brokenstar promised solemnly. His gaze flicked across the clearing and landed on a certain warrior. "Clawface will be your mentor."

Volekit puffed out his chest, trying to make himself look bigger, but Featherstorm let out a snarl at his antics. "Stop it! Neither of you are old enough to be apprentices!" Volekit glared at his mother, looking put out, and she met the glare with a flinty gaze, tail stirring angrily at her paws.

"Even the elders have a part to play in making ShadowClan stronger," Brokenstar announced. "From now on, they will live in the forest and hunt on their own."

Shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd. Littlekit stared up at the tabby leader, dismayed; he loved to hear the elders' stories, and if they lived outside of the camp he wouldn't be able to see them again until he was an apprentice. Still, it was Brokenstar's order, so Littlekit was probably just being silly. Brokenstar would always do what was best for ShadowClan, surely. Nightpelt, the youngest elder in the Clan - he had to retire early for some reason or another, Littlekit forgot what - met Brokenstar's gaze. "We will go." Deerleap and Poolcloud crowded behind him, looking dismayed; Crowtail and Archeye stared up at Brokenstar in anger, and Hollyflower's expression was one of abject shock. Yellowfang bounded forward to share a word with them, whiskers trembling in indignation, but Littlekit couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Meeting adjourned!" Brokenstar announced, looking satisfied. He leaped down from the Clanrock in a single powerful bound and strode forward to touch noses with Mosspaw. "Time to take you for a tour of the territory," he added more quietly. The pair of them walked towards the Clan entrance, Mosspaw bouncing along behind his much larger mentor with his tail waving in the air like a banner. Littlekit watched, a little sadly, as the elders trailed out of camp with Yellowfang on their heels. _Brokenstar's right,_ he tried to convince himself. _The Clan will be stronger. We'll keep all those mangy prey-thieves off our territory!_ he added, getting a little excited at the thought.

"Aww! I wish we wewe appwentices!" Wetkit complained. Then he brightened. "Hey, maybe if we pwactice ouw fighting moves and stuff, he'ww make us appwentices eawwy too, just wike Mosspaw!" Brownkit beamed, nodding in agreement.

Littlekit cocked his head to one side. "But Mosspaw didn't pwactice extwa," he pointed out.

"But I bet it'd help!" Wetkit persisted, looking excited. "Come on, Wittwekit! Wet's pwactice wight now!"

And so they did. Eventually it devolved into a play-fight, and Littlekit forgot all about what had happened earlier that day, until a couple of hours had passed and their mother called them in for a nap.

"Awww!" they complained, "_Pweaase?_" but could do nothing to escape the inevitable. They ended up curled in their nest moments later, Littlekit squashed in the middle, as usual.

"Ow! Stop kicking me," he complained, as his brothers squirmed on both sides of him to get comfortable. Finally they settled down, and they fell asleep quickly, but Littlekit was awake much longer than either of them. He kept thinking about the events of the day; of if he would get to be an apprentice early, too, and who his mentor would be, and how much he would miss the elders, and if their new den would be as comfortable as the old one. _Probably even more comfortable, _he told himself determinedly. _They'll have a whole camp all to themselves!_

He was just about to drift off to sleep when Newtspeck bent her head and nuzzled him between the ears, sure he was already sleeping. "Oh, my kit," she whispered softly, as he drifted into the land of nod, "early apprenticeships will lead only to trouble. I pray no harm will come to you, my little one..."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know that Nutwhisker was never mentioned as the father of Littlekit's litter. However, considering that two of them are brown, and their mother doesn't have a speck of brown on her, and there aren't that many single brown toms around Newtspeck's age in the Clan... well, it just makes sense.**

**Also, I didn't use the exact words/circumstance of the scene as it was in Yellowfang's Secret... I probably would have, but I don't own Yellowfang's Secret, and I turned it back in to the library. :P That's basically what happened, though.**

**And, at the rate I'm going, Chapter Two should be up within the next couple of days! Yay! :)**


	3. Chapter Two: Look to the Future

**A/N: Thanks again to Sandtail for reviewing! I hope as this gets longer other people will start noticing it, haha. And yes, I tried to make them quite cute.~**

**Now, on to Chapter 2. This one was nearly 3,000 words - pretty impressive for me! My chapters are usually in the low 2,000 range. Well, this was a pretty important chapter!**

* * *

"You want to do what?!" Newtspeck screeched. Littlekit jolted out of sleep, adrenaline seizing his limbs for a few seconds before he realized he was in the nursery, in his Clan, and no harm was going to come to him. Their mother, however, didn't seem to agree. She stood in front of their nest, a tortoiseshell wall of fur blocking his vision of what was going on outside of the nursery. He could, however, see her flecked tail lashing like mad, and the fur along her spine bristling protectively. Littlekit sat up, fur matted and mind addled with sleep. Wetkit, and yes, even Brownkit, stirred beside him. Behind them, Featherstorm shook scraps of leaf from her pelt as she sat up, and Volekit and Dawnkit huddled at her paws, looking bewildered. Badgerkit, in his nest, looked scared; Fernshade murmured comforting nothings in his ear.

It had been a moon since Mosspaw was apprenticed, and the large brown-and-white tom hadn't missed a single chance to boast about it. Suddenly he, rather than Volekit, was the center of attention, and it was clear he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Volekit, meanwhile, was blatantly jealous of his brother, constantly complaining that he should be an apprentice by now. Featherstorm usually scolded him when he said such things, but that didn't stop him, and the tabby queen seemed to know it was futile to try. The only good thing was that, deprived of his primary playmate, Volekit was left with only the younger kits to play with, and was forced to be nice to them lest they block him out of all their games. The only games Volekit really wanted to play nowadays were fighting games, or to practice fighting moves, always glancing in Brokenstar's direction as he did so. Dawnkit told Littlekit that he was hoping Brokenstar would notice how good he was getting and make him an apprentice, too. Meanwhile, Badgerkit was getting bigger and bigger. The young black-and-white tom had a heavy, broad-shouldered build. "He'll grow up to be big and strong," Newtspeck observed often. He played rough, and Volekit allowed him to practice and play with him even though he was three moons younger, which he had never done for Littlekit or Brownkit. Sometimes it seemed the nursery was divided into two halves - Volekit, Wetkit, and Badgerkit on one side, Littlekit, Brownkit, and Dawnkit on the other. But the kits played all together more than they ever had before Mosspaw was apprenticed, and for that Littlekit was thankful. You could have many times more fun than six kits than you could with two or three!

Today, however, was not a day for play. Newtspeck was furious, and Littlekit had no idea why. "Mommy?" he asked in confusion, peering around her legs. He gasped as he caught sight of Brokenstar's ragged dark brown fur.

"Newtspeck, it's fine. Nothing will happen to them," Brokenstar growled, seeming to be at the end of his leash in terms of patience. "They're getting older. It's almost time they leave the nursery. You can't hold on to them forever."

"They're only three moons old," she shot back angrily.

"It's a training exercise, nothing more," Brokenstar snapped, yellow eyes narrowed. "I am your leader. My word is law, or have you forgotten the warrior code?"

Newtspeck glanced back at her kits and seemed to deflate. Wetkit's face had lit up at the mention of training, and even Brownkit looked eager, while Littlekit's eyes were bright with and excitement.

"What about us?" Volekit piped up.

Brokenstar glanced over Newtspeck's shoulder, and a smile curled his muzzle. "Don't worry; you've already proven yourself. Don't think I haven't noticed how hard you've been training."

Volekit grinned. I guess he was right to train, Littlekit thought in surprise. Then he frowned a little. Maybe I should have joined him more.

"Come on, you three," Brokenstar ordered. "You're going to spar with Mosspaw. It's time to see what you know."

"Yesss! I'm totally gonna beat him!" Wetkit crowed. "Come on, guys!"

The three kits scampered after Brokenstar, who strode confidently into the camp. His gaze roved from face to face until it landed on Mosspaw's. The heavyset brown-and-white tom had pulled a frog from the meager fresh-kill pile and was about to bite into it. His pelt was ruffled and dusty; he obviously hadn't spent a lot of time grooming it lately. Littlekit had only talked to him a couple of times since he was apprenticed, and was surprised to see scratches and bitemarks scattered across his body. "Mosspaw!" Brokenstar called loudly. "Come here!"

The patched apprentice looked up quizzically; he had obviously been looking forward to that frog.

"You'll have time to eat later," Brokenstar responded, a bit impatiently. "Right now, you're helping me test out these kits."

Mosspaw hesitated for a moment, then nosed the frog back onto the fresh-kill pile and bounded over to join the group. Just in the past moon, he'd gotten larger. He was definitely bigger than Wetkit and Brownkit, and he towered over Littlekit. He had always been the largest in the litter, but with all the hard work he'd been doing, Littlekit could already see muscles beginning to ripple beneath his frame. His moss-green eyes shone with confidence as he followed his mentor across the camp.

Littlekit's heart sped with excitement as they approached the camp's entrance. He'd be leaving camp for the very first time! Questions rocketed through his mind at rapid-fire speed. Brokenstar had to duck to walk through the small tunnel, but it yawned around Littlekit like a cavern. As they emerged into the forest, he couldn't help but squeal in amazement. The pines soared into the sky, so tall it seemed as if their uppermost branches would get tangled in the clouds. The ground was muddy and cool underpaw, and strewn with pine needles; it felt so interesting, so pleasing that Littlekit dug his toes into it with each step. Everything was so much bigger than he'd imagined. The world stretched away from him, endless and exciting, and suddenly he wanted to explore it all. Fresh, damp, foresty scents danced around him. Brownkit's eyes were shining, and even Wetkit seemed to appreciate it.

Soon, they came to a stop in a hollow with dry, flat ground, encircled by thorny thickets.

"Mosspaw," Brokenstar instructed, "stand in the middle."

The brown-and-white apprentice shuffled obediently to the center of the clearing.

"You three, attack him head-on. However you think is best." The dark tabby's amber eyes raked over them like hot coals, but they didn't seem to notice.

Wetkit stepped up first, eyeing Mosspaw for a moment with his little jaw clenched in determination. Suddenly he charged forward with a yowl, paws outstretched, only to be batted away by the older tom. He blinked as he ended up on his rump, only to stand and circle Mosspaw, teeth bared, tail-tip flicking. Once more he attacked, ducking under the apprentice's attempted swipe and barrelling into his side. Mosspaw fell to the ground with a startled yowl, then kicked the younger kit away easily.

"Good, Wetkit," Brokenstar meowed indifferently.

Brownkit stood next. He tried the same thing Wetkit did, but by now Mosspaw was prepared, fending off the small brown tom at every turn. Brownkit's tail lashed as he stood and shook the dust from his pelt.

"Littlekit?" Brokenstar's eyes settled on the tiny brown tabby. Littlekit felt a bit nervous as he stepped up. He knew he would have to do something differently from his brothers. Besides, he was literally half Mosspaw's size! He eyed the larger cat for a moment, head cocked to one side. He ran forward, barely ducked Mosspaw's swipe, and slid beneath his body with his heart pounding in his chest. He scrambled to his paws and whirled around, managing to jump on Mosspaw's back before the larger tom could retaliate. He scrabbled at the apprentice's spine; Mosspaw shook himself violently, and Littlekit was thrown off and went rolling into a patch of thorns. They snagged in his fur and pricked at his skin; he yelped, but no one made a move towards him. Whimpering, he pulled free, feeling like he'd left half his pelt behind. He slunk back to join his siblings, ears lowered with shame.

"Now you'll learn some real moves," Brokenstar told them. "First, the leap and hold. Jump on him, dig your claws in and kick with your back feet."

Brownkit was determined to go first this time. He raced forward, baring his little teeth in a silent batle cry. He jumped on Mosspaw's back, then dug his claws in. He got in several good kicks along Mosspaw's spine with his blunted kit-claws before the older cat managed to shake him off.

Wetkit opened his mouth to volunteer, when all of a sudden Littlekit piped up, "I'll go!"

Wetkit looked annoyed, but Brokenstar only nodded, so Littlekit swallowed nervously and stepped up to the plate. He _had_ to make up for his previous failure. What if Brokenstar made his brothers apprentices and left him behind in the nursery?

He dashed forth, circling to Mosspaw's backside as the apprenticed twisted to try and keep him in his sight. With a mighty leap he scrambled up to Mosspaw's back, but he had barely pricked Mosspaw's skin with his front claws when the brown-and-white tom shook himself violently. Littlekit went flying and rolled roughly across the damp ground.

In contrast, Wetkit performed beautifully, while Littlekit watched him hopelessly from the sidelines.

It went on like this all morning. With every move Brokenstar instructed them to do, Littlekit performed subpar to his brothers. The dark tabby leader began focusing more and more on Wetkit and Brownkit, until by the latest move Littlekit wasn't participating at all.

_I can't believe it. I'm a failure._

"This move," Brokenstar explained, "is very advanced. It can defeat an opponent quite easily if you do it correctly. At the right angle, you'll hit a nerve that will send him tumbling right to the ground." The leader demonstrated on a tussock of grass, muscles rippling fluidly beneath his pelt as he leaped, landing forepaws-first on his target.

Wetkit and Brownkit did the same, performing the attack a bit clumsily, but it was close enough to what Brokenstar had wanted.

"Now try it on Mosspaw," he meowed. "Both of you at once."

At that moment the bushes quivered and the Clan's medicine cat burst into the clearing. Littlekit stared in surprise as Yellowfang stalked straight up to the Clan leader. "What are you _doing?!"_ she snapped. "They're only kits!"

"Calm down, Yellowfang," Brokenstar meowed, as though soothing an excitable child. "Go on, you two.

Yellowfang bristled but held her tongue. After a long moment, she sat on the peaty ground beside Littlekit, wrapping her fluffy grey tail over her paws. Narrowing her eyes stubbornly, she watched the scene with her head held high.

Wetkit and Brownkit paid no notice to her presence. They raced towards Mosspaw and jumped, small paws outstretched. Forepaws-first, they landed...

...and sure enough, Mosspaw crumpled...

...but as he hit the ground, a sickening _crack_ reverberated through the air. Littlekit flinched; that couldn't be right. Cats weren't supposed to go _crack!_

Brownkit and Wetkit clambered off of their target, eyes shining. "Did we do it right? Did we?" Wetkit demanded excitedly.

Mosspaw didn't move. His head was twisted to an odd angle, and his sides didn't even stir with breath. Littlekit felt sick deep within his stomach, as if having a premonition of things to come.

"He's dead," Yellowfang whispered, then she leaped to her paws, orange eyes blazing as she yowled accusingly at Brokenstar, "He's _dead_, you fool! Having such young kits practice such advanced moves! _Of course_ something would go wrong!"

Brokenstar stared at Mosspaw's corpse in surprise. Wetkit and Brownkit exchanged looks of horror. "N-nuh-uh! He's not /weawwy/ dead, is he?" Wetkit cried. Littlekit's paws shook as he tried to wrap his head around the situation. _Dead? Mosspaw's dead!_

Yellowfang stalked forward and grasped the fallen apprentice - only five moons old - by the scruff. She swept out of the hollow without another word, tail lashing furiously.

After a few achingly long moments, Brokenstar followed her, the kits stumbling after him.

* * *

By the time they arrived back in camp, Featherstorm was hysterical. The sound of her frenzied voice echoed from the medicine den all throughout camp. It seemed every cat in ShadowClan was already assembled, a horrified buzz spreading through them like wildfire. Dawnkit and Volekit huddled near the nursery; Volekit looked bewildered, while Dawnkit's eyes swam with fear and shock.

Littlekit scrambled over to them, his heart thudding in his chest. But he had no idea what to say once he got there, so he just stood by them uselessly, wanting desperately to comfort them but desperately in need of comfort himself.

A powerful yowl silenced the crowd. Brokenstar stood on the Clanrock, exuding confidence and a subtle sorrow. The cats of ShadowClan quieted and stared expectantly up at him. What would he say? What could he say to make things right?

"Mosspaw's death is a tragic accident," Brokenstar meowed. "He will be missed by us all. But as always, ShadowClan must move forward. We will continue to defend our territory, continue to grow stronger, and continue to train new apprentices. We will not let his death stop us in our tracks. Justice must be served!"

He paused to draw breath, and his gaze fell on a particular cat in the crowd. "Clawface, I know I promised you young Volekit," he meowed, "but I owe it to Volekit to train him in place of his brother."

A number of emotions passed over Volekit's face. Confusion, then realization, then surprise, then joy, then pure excitement. The cats in front of him shuffled to the side to form a clear path to the Clanrock.

"Volekit, Dawnkit, Wetkit, Brownkit, and Littlekit," Brokenstar announced proudly, "come forward."

_Us too? Even me?!_ Littlekit's horror vanished like mist on a sunny day. Wetkit was grinning like there was no tomorrow as the five of them bounced up to the base of the Clanrock.

"From now on, until you earn your warrior names, you will be known as Volepaw, Dawnpaw, Wetpaw, Brownpaw, and Littlepaw," Brokenstar declared. A thrill went through the tiny apprentice. _Littlepaw! My name is Littlepaw!_

Brokenstar's gaze flicked from face to face, and Littlepaw's heart fluttered in anticipation of who his mentor would be. "I will mentor Volepaw. Blackfoot will mentor Dawnpaw. Boulder will mentor Wetpaw. Stumpytail will mentor Brownpaw. And Clawface will mentor Littlepaw," he finished.

_Clawface?_ Littlepaw glanced furtively at the older brown tabby. _He's a little scary. But I bet he can teach me lots!_

The Clan cheered their names to the sky, and Littlepaw's heart swelled. _"Volepaw! Dawnpaw! Wetpaw! Brownpaw! Littlepaw!"_

"Featherstorm!" Brokenstar called once the cheers had died down. The dark brown she-cat appeared at the entrance to the medicine den, paws shaking, face drawn with pain. "Featherstorm," he continued more gently. "You have done a great service to ShadowClan by raising two litters of kits. Now you must join the elders."

Featherstorm stared at him disbelievingly. They held gazes for a long moment, the young leader and his grieving grandmother. Finally, the elderly she-cat stalked out of camp, trying to hold on to the scraps of her dignity as her remaining kits watched her go.

The crowd began to disperse, and the mentors of the five made their way toward them. _A tour! We get a tour!_ Littlepaw thought excitedly.

Then he noticed Dawnpaw's expression. The grey-and-white tabby she-cat still looked stricken, her blue eyes troubled.

"Hey, cheew up," Littlepaw meowed. "We'we appwentices! It's gweat! You should be happy."

"Yeah... I guess you're right," she answered, but he could tell she didn't really mean it, and the smile on her face was tremulous and halting.

As they padded out of camp, Littlepaw's own worries began to return. The excitement of the ceremony could only delay the shadow of Mosspaw's death for so long. Mosspaw /had/ died, there was no mistaking that.

And what if... what if Littlepaw was next?

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will most likely be a tour of the territory. Buuut, those can get tedious, so I might skip over it.**


	4. Chapter Three: Seeing the World

**A/N: It's been awhile! Never fear, though, this story is not abandoned. I just lost motivation on it for a bit. But Littlepaw is so cute, I couldn't leave him for long. ;3**

**In response to the guest review, no, they won't stop with the w's quite yet. 3 moons is only the equivalent of a 4.5-year-old child, after all. However, I intend them to lose the speech impediment within the next couple of chapters.**

**Now join us for a tour of ShadowClan!**

* * *

The fresh forest air enveloped Littlepaw again, and he felt instantly better. Wetpaw was bouncing along without a care in the world, and Brownpaw was doing his best to look happy. The patrol was huge; ten cats, including the Clan leader, the deputy, and every apprentice in the Clan.

Brokenstar took the lead, Volepaw striding proudly by his side. Blackfoot followed closely, with Dawnpaw scrambling after him. Littlepaw glanced nervously up at Clawface; the muscular warrior didn't even look at his apprentice.

_Maybe he's distracted? Mosspaw did just... die_, he guessed.

On that note Littlepaw noticed that they steered carefully around the training hollow where the accident had happened. His fur ruffled as they passed it by, and Brownpaw bit his lip. Mosspaw's siblings, thankfully, had no idea where they were.

As they continued through the forest, Littlepaw heard a faint rumbling. It grew louder and louder as they went on, and his ears flattened against the unpleasant noise. He glanced about for comfort, but his brothers were blocked from his view by other cats, and Clawface still wasn't looking at him.

The pines thinned out, and the ground grew more compact, populated by scraggly bits of dying grass. The trees parted ahead of them and a bitter stench made Littlepaw's nose wrinkle. The apprentices shared disgusted glances; despite their differences, that stink was something they could all agree on. Then he saw it. A sea of rough, flat black rock, baking in the sunlight. The smell wafted off of its surface in waves.

Brokenstar lifted his chin. "The Thunderpath."

The rumbling came again, and Littlepaw's pelt crawled. He looked fearfully up to his mentor, but Clawface only spared him a fleeting glance. His gaze flicked back to the Thunderpath as - _whoosh! zoom! _- something barrelled past with a deafening roar. A stinking wind blasted the tiny apprentice, throwing dust into his face. He stared after the bright, sleek, _huge_ creature as it rattled into the distance, gaping, trying without success to control his trembling paws.

"That," Brokenstar meowed calmly, "was a monster."

"It'll squash you flat if you get in its way," added Blackfoot in a low, warning rumble.

"I-Isn't the ThundewCwan bowdew on the othew side, though?" Littlepaw asked timidly, remembering the senior warriors mentioning something about it. When no one objected, he continued, hoping he wasn't asking an obvious question. "Then, h-how do we get to the bowdew without being squished?"

"Cross the Thunderpath, stupid!" Volepaw scoffed, amber eyes glittering tauntingly. Littlepaw's ears flattened, the tips burning in shame.

"Actually, that's a good question," Boulder spoke up. The thin grey tabby eyed him, looking impressed and curious. "Most cats have to cross the Thunderpath, but we have the tunnel, so we don't have to risk it."

Littlepaw perked up, a warm feeling kindling in his belly. Volepaw had been _wrong_ for once! And the brown tom looked quite disgruntled about it, too, ears lain flat against his head and tail lashing with annoyance.

"This way," Brokenstar meowed, bounding off down the length of the Thunderpath. He halted soon enough, to a place where the scruffy grass sloped down into a damp, dark entrance, hung with shadows, rough stone arching over. The dark tabby leader led the way, followed quickly by Volepaw, Blackfoot, and the rest of the patrol. Littlepaw hurried in at Dawnpaw's heels, Clawface's stoic gaze prickling his pelt. His paws splashed into a sluggish stream of foul-smelling water, and he tried not to breathe as he picked his way across the slimy stone.

"You get used to it," Boulder called from behind him, voice tinged with amusement.

Halfway through the tunnel, though, Littlepaw felt a faint rumble beneath his feet, and moments later the very ground beneath him shook as an echoing roar pierced his ears and echoed from wall to cold stone wall. His tail bushed out and he crouched, claws digging fruitlessly into the rock. The other apprentices also seemed alarmed as the monster rushed past into the distance, but the warriors were barely affected. Littlepaw crept forward after a moment's pause, and soon the entire group was emerging and squinting into the light.

"The ThunderClan border," Brokenstar announced solemnly. "Take a long sniff."

"They've always been our rivals, but we'll always be the stronger Clan," Stumpytail growled, "the kittypet friends."

Blackfoot glanced at Brokenstar; the striped leader nodded, and his loyal deputy stepped forward and marked the border, adding the familiar scent of ShadowClan to the pungent ThunderClan odor.

With that, Brokenstar turned and stalked back into the tunnel. Littlepaw trailed nervously after Clawface and blinked gratefully at Brownpaw when his brother surpassed his mentor to stand alongside him. The quiet young tom seemed apprehensive as well, but no monster came, and they arrived safely on the opposite side.

"Where to next?" Volepaw demanded, trotting along by the leader.

"You'll see," Brokenstar meowed curtly, silencing his apprentice.

To Littlepaw's dismay, they traveled only a few tail-lengths from the Thunderpath. He cringed whenever a monster zoomed by, but the warriors weren't disturbed one bit; by the fourth or so time he found himself getting used to them, only giving a wary lash of his tail as they passed. Eventually, the patrol halted, and Brokenstar lifted his nose to point across the Thunderpath. "That," he explained, "is Fourtrees. There's a full moon soon; if you train hard enough, you will be able to attend."

"Wow," Littlepaw breathed. The grass on the other side sloped down to a wide valley. Nestled in the center were four giant oaks, their branches stretching to the sky, leaves pluming out around them with size to rival the biggest clouds that drifted around them. A huge boulder rose from the ground not far from the trees, shaded beneath their whispering boughs. He pictured himself gazing up at the leaders atop the Great Rock, surrounded by cats from all Clans. _I gotta try my best,_ he decided with a determined lash of his tail. _I gotta train as hard as I can!_

They moved on, Littlepaw bounding forward with renewed excitement. As they traveled, the view on the opposite side of the Thunderpath morphed from a soft green slope and the occasional tree or bush to a wide, flat plateau. It was blanketed with yellowish grass, rolling in the wind as fluidly as water, dotted with scraggly bushes and the sleek shapes of stones. A new cat-scent reached his nose, tinged with the aromas of open air and rabbits.

"The WindClan border," said Brokenstar, a growl embedded in his throat. "Our most severe enemies."

Littlepaw's ears lowered at his tone. He remembered the tales of Raggedstar's death, related to him by Crowtail and Archeye in low, hushed tones, as if it were something secret, something sacred.

"We won't let them get away with murdering our leader," Clawface added in a deep snarl, startling Littlepaw; his mentor hadn't spoken the entire trip.

"Or stealing our prey," Boulder added, glaring resolutely across the sweeping moorland.

"They must be taught a lesson," Brokenstar concluded, and his voice was so dark and intense that Littlepaw was nearly frightened of him. "They must be taught to fear ShadowClan, or they will grow bold and rush across our borders. Remember that."

"I'll shred their pelts!" Volepaw spoke up eagerly, eyes glinting with excitement and bloodlust as his claws sank into the grass. "I'll fight them off by your side!"

"Me too!" Wetpaw crowed, looking more excited than angry. "I won't wet them acwoss _ouw_ bowdews!"

"Good," Brokenstar meowed, eyeing them with appreciation. "I am sure you will make loyal warriors."

Brokenstar and Clawface marked the border, and they continued, finally traveling away from the Thunderpath and into the shade of the marsh. The twitter of birdsong and the croaking of frogs filled his ears, paws sinking gratefully into the cool mud. His legs were beginning to tire, however, shorter than any of the other apprentices' and certainly much shorter than the warriors'. With every step his mentor took, he took three, and he found himself wishing to be curled in the curve of Newtspeck's belly, to be nestled against her warmth.

_No! I'm an apprentice now!_ he thought. _I'm a big boy. I'll make it all the way back to camp, all by myself!_

As this thought crossed his mind, another new scent hit him, just as foul as the Thunderpath's. He realized he had been staring into space, and he blinked at the sight before him. A barrier rose high over his head, webbed with shining silver. Behind it were heaps and heaps of unrecognizable objects, filthy and stained, and from these the scent was enamating. He thought he saw something skitter around the edge of one of the heaps, thought he saw the gleam of sharp eyes, and blinked perplexedly into the shadows.

"This is the Carrionplace," Brokenstar announced, his voice having regained its regular tone after leaving the WindClan border behind. "When prey is hard to find, we hunt the rats that live here. Although they are prey, they make dangerous opponents."

"Warriors have died hunting rats," Boulder chimed in.

_Is that what I saw? A rat?_ Littlepaw wondered. He knew that rats were dangerous; he remembered the story of Foxheart, Raggedstar's brave deputy, that Poolcloud had told him. Boulder was probably referring to her.

They swerved away from the Carrionplace, and Littlepaw found he was having trouble paying attention. His paws ached with every step he took, and his limbs felt dragged down by fatigue. Luckily, after the next stop - an abandoned badger sett, Littlepaw didn't hear much of what they said - Brokenstar decided that it was time to return to the camp. Littlepaw breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had never been so happy at the thought of taking a nap, which he usually avoided at all costs.

As they entered the camp, Brokenstar immediately stalked off into the shadows of his den, leaving the patrol to face the stares of the rest of the Clan; some curious, others reproachful, a few amused. Blackfoot turned to face the patrol and meowed, "Stumpytail, Boulder, round up a few cats and take out a hunting patrol. Clawface, find some warriors for a sparring session; we're supposed to keep our skills sharp."

Stumpytail's lip curled, but he nodded; Boulder bounded quickly further into the camp, blue eyes raking it for possible partners. Then the deputy turned to the apprentices, amber eyes roving over their tired faces. "You five, take a rest. I had Frogtail and Ashheart gather moss while you were gone; you should find your nests ready for you. You'll be expected up early tomorrow morning to begin your training."

Littlepaw nodded blearily. Blackfoot turned with a flick of his ear and strode purposefully towards a knot of warriors chatting by the fresh-kill pile.

"I don't need to rest," Volepaw complained sulkily. "We should be training."

"Oh, you know you're tired," Dawnpaw yawned, strolling towards the apprentice den.

"Maybe you are," he scoffed. "Doesn't mean I am."

She merely rolled her eyes and gave Littlepaw a look that said, _Can you believe this guy?_

He stifled a giggle, instead sending her a quick grin. Volepaw was so obstinate!

They were intercepted by Newtspeck halfway there. "How did it go?" she demanded anxiously, giving Littlepaw a swift lick between the ears. "Was it fun? Did he show you everything? Did anyone get hurt? Are you tired?" She leaned down and peered into his eyes, gaze flicking back and forth as though she could find the answers there.

Littlepaw opened his mouth for a sleepy reply, but Wetpaw beat him to it. "It was gweat, Mom!" he replied, blue eyes twinkling despite the weariness there. "We saw the bowdews, and Fouwtwees, and the Thundewpath, and _evewything!_"

Brownpaw nodded enthusiastically, and Littlepaw added, "We might get to go to the Gathewing!"

"You grow up so fast," Newtspeck mewed, but there was something beside pride in her soft green gaze, something darker. "Be careful, okay? Get your sleep, train hard, practice your fighting. And I expect a visit every day, you little troublemakers. Don't forget your old mom."

Wetpaw looked intensely uncomfortable. Littlepaw only felt warmed by his mother's concern, however, and buried his face in her chest. "We wiww, Mama," he promised, voice muffled by her soft black fur. Moments later, Brownpaw joined them, and even Wetpaw did after a brief moment of hesitation.

"Sleep well, little warriors," Newtspeck murmured, and pulled away. She eyed them fondly and sadly for a moment, then swept away to the warriors' den, where she would be sleeping from now on.

Littlepaw blinked, then turned and hurried after Volepaw and Dawnpaw into the apprentice den. Dawnpaw was already curled tightly in a nest of moss, so tightly she looked about to break something, her tail swept over her nose and her eyes screwed shut. Volepaw was in the nest next to hers, his back turned to her. _Is she okay?_ Littlepaw wondered, hesitating with one paw in the air.

"Huwwy up," came Wetpaw's irritated mew behind him. He flushed and hurried into the den; after a brief moment of indecision, he chose the nest on the other side of Dawnpaw and circled it experimentally. Satisfied, he nestled into the fresh moss; Brownpaw plopped down in the nest on the other side of _him_, and Wetpaw took the nest sandwiched between Volepaw and Brownpaw.

The den felt big and empty without the warm presence of his mother by his side, but Littlepaw was so tired out from his adventures that he hardly cared. He laid his nose on his paws, exhaustion sweeping over him. Moments later, he sank into the inviting darkness of sleep, and the waiting worlds of his dreams.

* * *

**A/N: I'm rather proud of the descriptions in this chapter. :)**

**Next time: Sparring and more!**


	5. Chapter Four: Partners in Crime

_"Wake up! It's time for training!"_

Littlepaw blinked blearily, pulled out of the fog of sleep. His denmates stirred around him; Stumpytail stood at the entrance, tail-tip flicking with impatience.

It had been three days since they were apprenticed, and they had worked hard, staying out daily from dawn to dusk, until Littlepaw's feet dragged in the dust.

Nevertheless, he was one of the first out of the den. His gaze flicked longingly to the meager fresh-kill pile, but he knew without asking that Clawface wouldn't let him eat until after they had trained for a few hours. While he was excited to be an apprentice, he got the distinct feeling his mentor didn't like him. _I'll prove I'm just as good an apprentice as Volepaw or Wetpaw,_ he thought stubbornly. _Even if they can fight better than me._

Brownpaw sidled up to him, breaking him from his thoughts. He smiled sleepily at his larger brother, who grinned back. Wetpaw, meanwhile, raced up to Stumpytail. "What awe we doing today? Huh? Huh?"

"Hush," Stumpytail mewed firmly, flicking his tail over the young tom's nose. "More sparring, with Clawface, Boulder, and I. Blackfoot and Brokenstar are busy," he added, at the disappointed look on Volepaw's face.

_Sparring!_ Littlepaw was just as disappointed as his denmate, but for different reasons. He was easily the worst fighter out of the apprentices, and all they'd learned since their tour of the territory was fighting moves. They still hadn't had a single hunting lesson. _Maybe, if they'd _ever_ let us hunt, I could impress Clawface,_ he thought, frustrated.

"Sparring again!" Dawnpaw echoed his thoughts, her whiskers twitching with annoyance. "They could at least let us on a border patrol."

Littlepaw agreed heartily. He was about to say so, but Clawface and Boulder were joining them, and he clamped his mouth shut, instead. Complaining wasn't the best way to get on his mentor's good side, if having his feet swept out from under him was any indication. The brown tabby bounded out of camp at the head of the patrol, followed quickly by Stumpytail, Boulder and the apprentices.

For the past few days, under Blackfoot's supervision, they had practiced in whatever area of sufficiently sized dry ground they could find. But to Littlepaw's dismay, Clawface headed straight for the training hollow. His ears lowered as he trailed after them into the wide clearing. The sickening _snap_ of Mosspaw's neck echoed through his mind - of Yellowfang's furious screech, and Featherstorm's desperate wail. Brownpaw seemed faintly sick, and even Wetpaw's spirits looked dampened.

"What's wrong?" Dawnpaw mewed, peering at him with innocent blue eyes.

He forced back the words - _your brother died here_ - and gave a helpless shrug. She eyed him suspiciously, but he was saved from her interrogation when Clawface ordered, "Partner off! Dawnpaw, spar with Brownpaw, Volepaw with Wetpaw. Practice the moves you learned yesterday. Littlepaw, come here."

Littlepaw approached his mentor timidly as his denmates faced off. Clawface's gaze was unreadable, but it had a steely glint to it that the small tom didn't like. "Show me the move from yesterday. On me."

"Th-The leap-and-hold?" Littlepaw asked nervously, eyeing his mentor. The tom was large, even for an adult.

"That first. Then the other two," Clawface confirmed.

Littlepaw took a few steps back as the tabby lay down, settling himself in the dust. He bit his lip, slid out his claws and raced forward, landing with a flying leap on Clawface's back. He dug his claws into the warrior's fur, pricking his skin but not wanting to harm him. Clawface stood and shook himself; the tiny apprentice was whipped around like a rat before tumbling off of his mentor's back, straight into the thorns once more.

"You think you would stay on any opponent that way? Wrong," Clawface growled, baring his teeth. Littlepaw winced as he pulled himself out of the brambles. Blood welled from pinprick punctures.

"Try the next. The one where you run by," he ordered brusquely.

Littlepaw nodded, clenching his teeth in determination. He raced at Clawface, claws unsheathed, and managed to duck his snapping jaws. Adrenaline racing through him, he raised a paw to swipe at the warrior's side, only to be smacked in the gut by one of his huge paws. He went rolling across the ground, and curled in on his stomach, wheezing with the wind knocked out of him. He took a ragged gasp of air and forced himself to his feet, quailing under his mentor's dark look of disappointment.

The other apprentices finished sparring and switched partners, Brownpaw facing Volepaw, Wetpaw facing Dawnpaw. Again and again Clawface ordered Littlepaw to attack him, and again and again the tiny apprentice was fended off with the smallest of efforts. Finally, the tabby tom gave a low snort and stalked over to the other apprentices, tail swishing behind him. Littlepaw stared after him forlornly, aching and sore, exhausted, a crescendo of disappointment rising in his chest. _I'm a worthless fighter! I'll never be good for anything but hunting!_

Clawface began to show a new move to the others, but made no indication that Littlepaw should come over and learn. After a few minutes of watching them dejectedly, he heard a frustrated snarl, and moments later Dawnpaw hurried over to him with her ears flattened.

"What happened?" Littlepaw whispered as she settled beside him.

"I couldn't get the new move right, no matter how many times I tried," Dawnpaw whispered back, sounding embarrassed. "He kicked me out, I guess."

"Oh," Littlepaw murmured, unable to think of anything else to say. While he wasn't happy his friend had gotten snapped at, it was nice not to be alone. At least _someone_ else was having trouble.

Another minute or two passed in silence, and suddenly Dawnpaw's ears perked up. "Hey," she exclaimed in an excited whisper-shout, "why don't we sneak off? No one would notice! We could sneak away and hunt!"

"W-Wouldn't we get in trouble?" Littlepaw asked uncertainly, but he had to admit his heart leaped at the idea.

"Nawww," she disagreed, wrinkling her nose. "When we bring back prey they won't get us in trouble at all. They'll be pleased!"

That was all the reassurance he needed. "Weww... Okay!"

He felt giddy as they slid beneath the trees. Raising his nose, Littlepaw sniffed at the air, and Dawnpaw did the same. She caught a whiff of something first and dropped instantly into a crouch, blue eyes gleaming, tail a centimeter from the earth. Her paws squelched in the mud as she stalked forward, and she winced at the noise. Suddenly she kicked out her legs and pounced, but she landed clumsily, falling face-first into a murky puddle. A frog exploded out from a clump of reeds, and Littlepaw jumped after it, but it sprang off into the woods with a speed of which he could only dream. He stared after it, whiskers trembling in disbelief.

Dawnpaw hauled herself to her feet; his gaze slid to take in her muddy pelt, ruffled fur, and sopping-wet front. Water dripped in rivulets from her drooping whiskers. "It's not funny!" she protested, as he burst out laughing. She shook herself vigorously, and he leaped away from the spray of droplets with a yelp.

She glared, and he forced himself to quit laughing, but was unable to stifle one last _snerk_.

A moment of silence passed.

_"Well,"_ she muttered, tail whipping back and forth.

"Wet's twy again!" Littlepaw chirped, perking up. He bounded further into the forest, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. Suddenly, he halted, stiff as a board, nose twitching. Dawnpaw found him there, standing perfectly still, when she caught up.

"What?" she demanded, casting her eyes over their surroundings.

_"Shh,"_ he hissed. "Gotta be _quiet_."

She blinked once and then made her way over to his side, tasting the air carefully.

His eyes widened as he picked up a familiar, musky prey-scent. _Shrew!_ He dropped into a hunting crouch, trying to imitate the one Nutwhisker had shown him and the one Dawnpaw had just done. Tail low to the ground, legs bent and pulled close to your chest, slow, careful, quiet pawsteps. He trembled with effort as he crept toward the shrew. There it was, nibbling on an acorn at the root of a pine tree. _Snap!_ Something broke beneath his paw and the shrew's head whipped up, berry-bright eyes alarmed.

_Oh no!_ Panicking, he pounced instantly, but fell short by a whiskerlength. The shrew shot away, squealing. He whirled around and darted after it, kicking up sprays of brackish water as he ran. Once more he coiled his muscles and sprang; this time he clipped its side and sent it flying. He planted a paw on the dazed animal before it could dash off again, then bent down, blood roaring in his ears, and dealt the killing blow. It gave a high, startled squeal and went limp.

Littlepaw felt a bit sorry for it, but his sympath evaporated as Dawnpaw bounced up to him, sapphire eyes shining. "You caught one! You really caught one!" she crowed.

The adrenaline drained from his body, leaving him feeling even more tired than before. He grinned at her nevertheless, barely able to believe it himself. "I guess I did, didn't I?" he mewed.

Dawnpaw didn't reply; her head was cocked to one side, considering. Then her eyes lit up. "Ooh, I know! Let's visit the elders! We can give it to my mom!"

Littlepaw's eyes went round. "Yeah! That's a gweat idea, Dawnpaw!" He wouldn't admit it, because no one else seemed to care, but the past few days he'd missed the elders' presence in camp. They had always liked him, the tiny kit who always had time for their stories, who liked to bring them prey and curl in the sun with them while the others raced back and forth, growling and pretending to be great warriors. Then he paused. "But... whewe awe they?"

"...Somewhere in the forest," Dawnpaw meowed, shuffling her paws in embarrassment. "...I'm sure we'll find them if we use our noses?"

"Okay!" Littlepaw agreed amiably; it was worth a try.'

It took twenty full minutes of sniffing randomly around before they found anything. Littlepaw had just about given up, and was flopped down on a soft patch of moss taking a "break" while his denmate continued to flounder around in the bushes, when Dawnpaw suddenly piped up, voice high and excited: "I found them! I found them!"

"Wha? Where?" Littlepaw rolled over, eyes brightening in curiosity, only to wince as he pressed on a bruise. _Stupid Clawface..._ He got to his feet and shook out his fluffy pelt, then hurried to his friend's side.

"It's Mom's! I know it!" Nose to the ground, Dawnpaw began to follow the scent.

They almost lost the trail a couple of times - _"It was _right here!_ I know it! - wait, here it is!"_ - until the scent of cats grew stronger and they burst all of a sudden into a dry, mostly flat clearing.

A large, cracked boulder leaned against the base of a huge tree, with a thick trunk and knotted roots. The overhanging rock provided some shelter, and several nests of moss were clustered beneath it. Crowtail was curled in one; the elderly black she-cat's paws twitched as she slept, silvered muzzle resting between them. Archeye and Hollyflower were slowly sharing tongues in a shaft of sunlight, a mass of indistinguishable white-and-grey fur. Poolcloud and Featherstorm were speaking softly to one another, shaded beneath the leaves of a yew bush.

"Mom!" Dawnpaw exclaimed. The dark brown queen's head whipped up, startled; her yellow eyes widened in shock, then happiness. Her daughter scrambled across the clearing and buried her face in her fur. The other elders turned to stare at the apprentices in surprise - all except Crowtail, who shifted in her sleep and mumbled something unintelligible.

Littlepaw crept into the clearing self-consciously, his shrew dangling from his jaws. Hollyflower disentangled herself from Archeye, who looked cross, and picked her way up to the tiny apprentice.

"What's that you've got there?" she asked curiously, then broke into a soft purr. "And however did you find us? We were beginning to think no one would come to visit."

"Except Yellowfang," Poolcloud reminded her mildly.

"Yes, except Yellowfang, StarClan bless her," Featherstorm purred, giving her daughter a fond lick between the ears.

Littlepaw set his shrew down and mewed, blinking up at Hollyflower, "It's a shwew! I caught it. And Dawnpaw and me found you aww by ouwsewves."

"Really! Take you out hunting, did they? So young and you've already caught your first prey," purred Poolcloud.

Littlepaw didn't want to explain about he and Dawnpaw skipping out on a sparring lesson, so he just nudged the shrew closer to Hollyflower. "It's fow you guys. You can shawe it if you want."

Fondness colored Hollyflower's eyes. "Thank you, Littlepaw! I think a bite to eat is just the thing to cheer ol' Archeye up."

"I do not need cheering up," he grumbled.

"Oh, don't even try to deny it. We all know you've been flopping around like a wounded rabbit ever since we moved out here," Hollyflower teased, returning to him and laying the shrew down at his paws.

"It's warranted, though," he insisted, though he stretched out his nose to give the shrew an experimental sniff.

"Whewe awe Deewweap and Nightpewt?" Littlepaw asked, suddenly noticing their absence. He remembered Nightpelt - the black tom was far too young to be an elder already - and of course he missed Deerleap's presence, because she was the most energetic of the elders, and had even played mossball with him a few times.

"They're out hunting, dear," Hollyflower replied, swallowing a mouthful of fresh-kill. "They've caught most of our prey the past few days, cough and all, poor Nightpelt."

"Yes," Poolcloud agreed sadly, "most of us are too tired to do much hunting, though we've helped out where we can."

Two cats to hunt for seven? That didn't sound like enough, even to Littlepaw. Dawnpaw must have been thinking the same thing, because she looked up to her mother, troubled, and meowed, "_We_ could help hunt for you."

"I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," Featherstorm replied softly.

"Whenever we can! We'll sneak away! And come visit you! You must be lonely out here, right? This is awful!" Dawnpaw sprang to her feet, tail bushed out and lashing behind her. Her voice grew more and more distressed until suddenly she burst into tears and lurched forward into her mother's fur again. Littlepaw couldn't believe his eyes as he listened to her sob, silver shoulders shaking.

"Shh, shh," Featherstorm soothed. "It's alright."

"No, it's not!" Dawnpaw wailed, voice muffled. "Mosspaw is dead! He's _dead!_ And you're out here all by yourself and I'll never get to see you! And all they want to do is fight and I'm _no good_ at it, I'm just a loser and _Mosspaw is dead!_"

Grief filled Featherstorm's eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, "I know," and rested her chin on Dawnpaw's head. "It'll get better, darling. I promise. You'll learn to fight and you'll be the best hunter in all the forest. And you can visit me whenever you want, as soon as you've finished your duties, you know that, right?"

"Yes," Dawnpaw whispered.

Littlepaw approached her uncertainly. "Don't be sad, Dawnpaw," he mewed tentatively. "I'm youw fwiend. We can hunt togethew. And pway. And I'ww hewp you hunt fow them and visit them too, if you want me to."

She sniffled, the tears finally subsiding. She drew back from her mother just a bit and murmured, "Th-Thanks, Littlepaw."

He felt a little sick, remembering Mosspaw again. Mosspaw _was_ dead and _he'd killed him_. Well, not him, he supposed - his brothers had. But he was there. He'd _seen_ him. Seen the brown-and-white tom with his neck flopping back like a piece of fresh-kill's and the life gone from his eyes, his _eyes_, so dull and glassy - and Wetpaw and Brownpaw scrambling away from him looking horrified and Wetpaw squeaking, desperately, _"He's not _weawwy_ dead, is he?"_

"Littlepaw?" Featherstorm asked, concerned, from a million miles away. "Are you okay?"

He realized he was trembling and shook himself, looking up at her as he was dragged back into reality, looking into her worried yellow eyes and trying to smile and stammering, "Y-Yeah."

They stayed there for the better part of an hour; Littlepaw and Dawnpaw settled down, side-by-side, to listen to one of Hollyflower's stories. She was the best storyteller out of the elders, weaving tales full of excitement and magic and, occasionally, romance. Wetpaw had always hated those ones, but Littlepaw didn't mind them. What was so bad about finding a soulmate, someone who understood you and loved you and you loved them? In fact, he secretly liked the love stories, but he didn't go around professing this because it seemed to be something she-cats were supposed to like, and Volepaw already made fun of him enough for being so small. Deerleap and Nightpelt returned just as Hollyflower was finishing her story, with a squirrel and two frogs, and Crowtail woke from her nap and they ate lunch, two cats to a piece of prey. Littlepaw's stomach growled at the sight of all the food - he still hadn't eaten a thing today - and after hearing this, Featherstorm practically force-fed him and Dawnpaw a squirrel leg each. It felt nice, to be so loved and fawned over, and the world seemed filled with a warmth and light that he hadn't realized he was missing.

It felt like... home.

It was while he was cleaning the last bits of fresh-kill from his whiskers that the warriors found him. He had forgotten all about the sparring lesson, and jumped as they strode powerfully into the clearing. Clawface glared at him darkly, and even Stumpytail looked stern.

"Can we help you?" Featherstorm asked with thinly disguised disdain.

"These apprentices snuck away from their lesson," Clawface growled.

"Mustn't've missed them much, if it took you so long to come after them," Hollyflower meowed sweetly, not looking the least bit intimidated as he swung his broad head around to face her.

Littlepaw didn't understand. They didn't _care_ that he'd disobeyed his mentor?

"Well, we've loved having them," Nightpelt spoke up, meeting his brother's gaze levelly. "Even so, you two had better get back to training."

"Alright," Dawnpaw meowed reluctantly, getting to her paws. "Bye, Hollyflower. Bye, Deerleap. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Poolcloud and Nightpelt and Archeye and Crowtail," Littlepaw added in one hurried breath, because it didn't feel nice to leave out any of them.

"Visit us again sometime, dears!" Hollyflower called after them as they followed their mentors into the forest.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the elders, Clawface rounded on them angrily. "That was _unacceptable_, you two. You're to clean out the nests in the warriors' den, and don't take anything from the fresh-kill pile."

"But - " Littlepaw protested, then quailed under the warrior's angry glare and bared teeth.

"_Now_," he growled.

They escorted Littlepaw and Dawnpaw back to camp, where the other apprentices were finishing up a meal of mouse and lizard. Volepaw sneered at them, and Wetpaw looked as though he didn't know which side to take, but Brownpaw nudged him sympathetically. The three left camp soon after, when Blackfoot assigned them to their first border patrols, all the while eyeing Dawnpaw reproachfully.

The two had never gathered moss before, and had no idea how to do so; they ended up just standing by the warriors' den, looking lost, until Blackfoot leaped down from the Clanrock - where he'd been surveying the Clan - and loped over to them. "Why haven't you started yet?" he rumbled sternly.

Littlepaw's ears flattened, and he was about to answer when Dawnpaw beat him to it. "We don't know how to gather moss, um, sir," she mewed politely, "Or where it is."

Blackfoot sighed and scanned the camp, before his amber eyes finally settled on someone who didn't seem to be doing much of anything.

"Ashheart!" he called. "Take these two out and show them how to gather moss. They're to clean out the warrior den."

Ashheart, Littlepaw's aunt, approached them with surprise in her pale blue eyes. "The entire den?"

"Yes, the entire den," Blackfoot growled.

"What'd you do to earn that?" she asked, tail-tip flicking curiously. "Come on, the place I always used is this way..."

And so Littlepaw scrambled after her, followed swiftly by his partner in crime.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: This got way longer than I anticipated. xD 3.6k, sheesh.**

**And I'm now in love with the epic elders of ShadowClan.**

**Next time: angst and a Gathering.**


	6. Chapter Five: Expected in the Least

Moonlight spilled across the clearing, frosting Littlepaw's fur, dipping everything in silver. Brokenstar stood proudly on the Clanrock, surveying his gathered Clan below him.

"The cats going to the Gathering," he announced, "are myself, Blackfoot, Yellowfang, Runningnose, Mudclaw, Scorchwind, Newtspeck, Ashheart, Clawface, Stumpytail, Cinderfur, Amberleaf, Russetfur, Boulder, Volepaw, and Wetpaw."

Littlepaw pulled his thick tail tighter around his paws. It wasn't anything he hadn't expected, but he still felt disappointed that he'd been passed over in favor of his brother. Brownpaw's tail lashed once, shooting a jealous glance at Wetpaw. For all the excitement the grey tom was showing, he may have been named Clan leader. He bounced on his paws, grinning at his mentor with undisguised glee. Volepaw's chin was lifted superiorly, but there was no mistaking a gleam of joy in his eyes as well.

"Tell me all about it, you big furball," Dawnpaw purred, nuzzling her brother.

"Alright, alright, I will, don't smother me," he muttered. As he turned to join the group of cats going to the Gathering, Dawnpaw bounced up to her younger denmates.

"Did you hear the news?" she asked brightly.

"What news?" Littlepaw replied; beside him, Brownpaw's eyes gleamed curiously.

"Someone in the Clan is expecting kits," she answered, leaning in conspiratorially. "Can you guess who?"

"Umm..." He cycled quickly through the list of she-cats in the Clan, fumbled blindly, and guessed at length, "...Russetfur?"

"No, sillypaws," Dawnpaw mrrowed, clearly enjoying herself. "It's Brightflower!"

Littlepaw gaped. "Brightflower?"

"Yep!" Dawnpaw's berry-pink nose twitched with amusement at his surprise. Brownpaw seemed to be searching the crowd for Brightflower's ginger-and-white pelt, as though he had to see it with his own eyes to believe it.

"But... but she's old!" Littlepaw blurted out.

"Not too old, obviously," she disagreed, rolling her eyes.

"But she's Dad's mom!" he protested again. His grandmother! Nutwhisker's mother! Having _kits!_

"Shhh, what if she's listening?" hissed Dawnpaw. "Don't be rude!"

Littlepaw flopped down to a sitting position with a thump. Beginning to get over the shock, he mewed, "Well, they'll be cute, I guess."

"Very," she concurred.

"Badgerkit will have some playmates." Brownpaw was staring intensely at something; he followed his gaze and it landed straight on Brightflower, who did in fact look more portly than a warrior ought to straight after leaf-bare. They watched as she ducked gleefully into the nursery.

"If Brokenstar doesn't apprentice him first," Dawnpaw pointed out, jarring him back to the conversation.

"You think he'll apprentice him soon?" echoed Littlepaw, imagining the younger tom accompanying them on sparring lessons and the occasional hunting class.

"Well, he's already bigger than you are," Dawnpaw purred with a flick of her tail.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he protested, although he knew it was true.

"Nothing," she replied innocently, and flicked her tail again, this time right across his nose. He blinked disconcertedly, then mustered up a glare in her direction. He knew he didn't look threatening ("That's the best you can do? You look like a wounded rabbit," she had teased), but he had to do something.

"I wonder if we'll get to sleep in tomorrow," Dawnpaw speculated thoughtfully, completely ignoring his glare. "Our mentors will be tired after the Gathering, don't you think?"

He nodded mutely, then yawned. "We should go to bed now," he meowed, not-so-subtly. "I'm tired."

"So am I." She blinked sympathetically, then trotted towards the den. Littlepaw padded along at her side, and Brownpaw trailed after them, still giving the occasional lash of his tail.

* * *

Littlepaw woke in the morning to sunlight streaming into the den. He blinked in confusion, before a grin spread slowly across his face. They had been allowed to sleep in! He glanced around happily, then snorted as he realized Brownpaw was the only one still sleeping. Back when they were in the nursery, Littlepaw had had to prod Brownpaw awake practically every morning; he could sleep through almost anything.

_I'll let him sleep in for now,_ he decided, and pushed his way out of the bush, leaves quivering as his nose parted them. His eyes lit up as he spotted Volepaw, Wetpaw, and Dawnpaw congregated around the fresh-kill pile, chatting over the dusty bodies of frogs and mice. He bounded up to them, snatched a shrew (his favorite) from the pile and settled down inbetween Dawnpaw and Wetpaw. The latter smiled blearily. "Hi, Little-p-paaaawwww," he yawned.

Littlepaw chortled with amusement. "How was the Gathering?" he asked, hoping they hadn't already finished discussing the news; it seemed they hadn't been up for long - their eyes were still hazy with exhaustion, and they'd only taken a few bites of their breakfasts, which were good signs at the least.

"It was great," Volepaw meowed superiorly.

"Yeah, really awesome," Wetpaw agreed, stifling a second yawn.

"We want details!" Dawnpaw demanded. "What were the other Clans like? Did you make any friends? Did you give out ShadowClan secrets like frog-brains?"

Volepaw sent her a scathing glare. "No, of course not."

"No, of course not to what? Making any friends?" she continued to tease.

"Shut up," he growled, amber eyes narrowing into slits.

"Oh, you know I'm only joking," she muttered, then rounded on Wetpaw. "Wetpaw! Do _you_ have any news for us?"

"Umm..." he considered, sending a concerned glance at Volepaw, who was fuming alone. "Uhh, ThunderClan has a new apprentice," he offered. "Ravenpaw. Aand... WindClan is mad about us attacking them. Mouse-brains! _They're_ the ones stealing our prey and killing our leader!" His claws scraped into the earth at the very thought, teeth baring in a small snarl.

"Did you meet anyone?" Littlepaw asked, nonplussed. To be honest, he was more curious about what it was like to meet cats from other Clans.

"Well... I did meet a cat named Greypaw," recalled Wetpaw, brightening at the thought. "He was really friendly. And funny! But the other ThunderClan apprentices were jerks. And I didn't talk to the warriors very much."

Volepaw rolled his eyes. "_I_ did. They were swapping battle stories. ThunderClan and RiverClan cats, arguing about how the last battle over Sunningrocks went. Darkstripe says ThunderClan fought until the bitter end, but Blackclaw said they ran like cowards!"

"I hope _I_ can go to the next Gathering," Littlepaw mewed wistfully. It sounded exciting, and fun. He dug his claws into the ground. He would train harder and harder, until he was a worthy apprentice. No matter what it took.

A loud yowl silenced his thoughts. Blackfoot stood at the base of the Clanrock, amber eyes surveying the Clan. "Russetfur, lead a patrol along the ThunderClan border," he ordered. "Take Nettlespot, Frogtail, and Ashheart. Deerfoot, you can lead one at the WindClan border. Take Clawface, Stumpytail, Littlepaw, and Brownpaw."

Littlepaw's ears perked, his eyes widening in surprise. He had been on only one border patrol before, and never along the WindClan border! A smile curled his muzzle as he bounded up to join his mentor, Brownpaw trailing after him. "Bye, guys!" he called behind him, and a muffled chorus of less-enthusiastic "byes" followed.

Clawface eyed him sternly, and Littlepaw's ears lowered. While he was looking forward to the border patrol, he definitely wasn't looking forward to spending time with his mentor. Clawface just seemed determined not to like him, no matter what he did, and he'd just about given up trying to impress him.

Deerfoot, though, was a bit more lenient. Littlepaw didn't know the older brown tom very well, but he knew he had been raised alongside Brokenstar, and was a skilled, diligent warrior. "Alright, off we go," meowed Deerfoot, and strode powerfully out of camp. Clawface and Stumpytail followed, Littlepaw and Brownpaw scurrying after them.

They soon reached the WindClan border. Littlepaw padded back and forth, sniffing suspiciously, as Deerfoot marked it. Clawface and Stumpytail gave it a close examination, while Brownpaw sat silently off to the side, not moving a muscle. Littlepaw frowned, taking a break from his investigation; his brother had been acting oddly lately, but maybe it was just because Volepaw had made fun of him for his silence a couple of days ago, and Stumpytail had snapped at him for the same reason.

Suddenly, Brownpaw's ears flicked up, and his yellow eyes stretched wide.

"Brownpaw? What is it?" Littlepaw asked nervously, head tilted, as his brother's gaze darted wildly from side to side.

All of a sudden, an eerie yowl pierced the air. Before Littlepaw knew what was happening he had been slammed to the ground, sharp claws digging into his pelt. He cried out, struggling fruitlessly, as clumps of fur were ripped from his side. Through a veil of pain and fear he remembered his ill-fated battle lessons and sank his teeth deep into his attacker's paw. The cat hissed and drew back, allowing Littlepaw to scramble away into the battle.

All around him, cats were rolling across the ground, screeching balls of fur locked in combat. The noise seemed to tear at his soul as he cowered on the battlefield, flanks heaving, blood dripping slowly down his sides. He wanted nothing more than to get far, far away, but...

_No! A ShadowClan warrior doesn't run away!_

He swallowed, determined to help his friends, only to whip around as another assailant raced towards him. Wind rushed past his head as he ducked instinctively, and his attacker landed, stumbling, behind him.

Littlepaw whirled as she got to her paws. A young WindClan cat, white-furred, likely an apprentice, and nearly twice his size.

They circled each other, ears laid flat. Icy fear gripped his heart like claws, but he refused to back down.

"What? Does ShadowClan use kits in battle now?" she jeered, yellow eyes glinting.

"I'm not a kit!" he yowled, tail lashing. He lunged forward but she darted away, laughing, and swiped her claws down his side. The wound stung with a fury he had never felt before; she swung around to attack him again, but he managed to dodge. Hissing in annoyance, she came at him directly, swipe after swipe aimed at his face, forcing him to step back. One claw caught him across the nose, bringing tears to his eyes, dazing him momentarily until suddenly heavy paws shoved him to the ground.

Littlepaw squirmed like a freshly-caught fish, panicking. Didn't anyone see him? Couldn't they help? Or were they caught in their own battles? His eyes locked with hers, and her lip curled as she dug her claws into his skin. "Ready to give up, kitten?" she snarled.

_Yes. Yesyesyesyes -_ "Never!" he screeched, kicking hard at her stomach with unsheathed claws. She reared back, surprised, and Littlepaw slashed her across the face, causing her to recoil further. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he spun and skittered away, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold his own much longer. He stiffened in shock as a scream of pain carried over the battlefield. Brownpaw!

Littlepaw raced blindly toward the noise and soon found a much larger tom standing over a cowering Brownpaw. Blood matted his fur, making Littlepaw's heart lurch. He had to do something, but what?

"St-Stay away from him!" he shouted, burying his claws in the earth. The WindClan tom whirled, yellow eyes narrowing. Littlepaw's legs shook as the tom stalked toward him; he watched Brownpaw sway shakily to his paws out of the corner of his eye.

"Feh," the tom hissed. "I don't need to fight kits to protect my Clan. Run home before you get hurt."

Littlepaw didn't know what to say; he tried to reply but no sound came out.

Wind rushed past him; Deerfoot was tearing across the border, blood running down his ears as he howled, "ShadowClan, retreat!"

Littlepaw didn't need to be told twice. With one glance back at his almost-opponent, he raced into the marsh, Brownpaw stumbling after him. The WindClan tom smirked, raising his muzzle and shouting in triumph: "That's right! Run away, ShadowClan rats! That'll teach you to think twice before you attack our patrols again!"

As soon as the border had faded behind them, Deerfoot slowed, and Littlepaw stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. He didn't seem able to fill his lungs quickly enough. Brownpaw caught up moments later and stood pulled into himself, shoulders hunched.

Clawface whirled on them, eyes narrowed into furious slits. "You were hopeless!" he snarled. "If Volepaw and Wetpaw were with us instead of you two, we would have won that battle!"

"I'm - I'm s-so - " Littlepaw stammered, only to shrink back with a yelp as Clawface whacked him across the muzzle.

"'Sorry' catches no prey," Clawface hissed, then spun on his heel and stalked forward into the swamp.

For a moment, Littlepaw stared after his mentor fearfully; Stumpytail's lip was curled, as though he'd like to take a swing at the apprentices himself, and Deerfoot watched impassively, through narrowed green eyes. They followed Clawface after a long moment of pause, and Littlepaw slunk after them, the tips of his flattened ears burning with embarrassment and shame.

Halfway back to camp, Brownpaw collapsed. Stumpytail took up his scruff, and Littlepaw stumbled nervously alongside them, sudden worry piercing him like thorns, lending strength to his weary limbs. His brother's eyes were screwed shit, muzzle twisted against the pain, toes twitching sporadically. There was so much blood staining his fur. How much of it was his? What if - what if he died like Mosspaw did and then -

They had reached camp; a dark brown tail disappearing into the thorn tunnel was all that was left of the patrol. Littlepaw crept through it and emerged, squinting against the bright light and the shocked gazes of his Clanmates. Deerfoot was saying something, he was explaining, and Stumpytail was approaching the medicine den with Brownpaw dangling limply from his jaws. Littlepaw ducked through the crowd, not even pausing to mutter excuse mes and thank yous, mind focused on one thing and one thing only, following his brother, making it to the medicine den, finding a nest to curl up in where he could hide away from the world and Clawface's cutting words and every expectation anyone had ever had of him.

Suddenly he was there, blinking dazedly into a pair of orange eyes framed in grey fur, dimly aware of Brownpaw being laid in a soft nest of moss nearby.

"What happened?!" Yellowfang snapped from somewhere far away. Her hot breath wisped across his neck, her squashed nose nudging him into a nest of his own. He curled up numbly in the moss, nose tucked behind his tail, Brownpaw's flanks rising and falling gently in front of him.

"Border skirmish," Stumpytail explained uncomfortably. "WindClan ambushed us. We lost."

"You should have protected your apprentice better," Yellowfang snarled; Stumpytail flinched back, quailing before the medicine cat's ferocity. "And you and Clawface call yourselves mentors. That battle should never even have happened," she muttered, spinning on her heel.

Littlepaw was keenly aware of his injuries as Yellowfang stalked toward him, of the way they burned, like fire. The pain was like the pinprick of thorns in his spine, but intensely, and all along his side where the fur had been ripped away, and on his flank where he had been swiped, and across the bridge of his nose. He heard Brownpaw whimper, caught the whirl of Yellowfang's dark fur brushing the dust as she bustled above him. "...and he didn't think to... what kind of mouse-brain would..." The medicine cat's discontented grumbling faded into the background as his eyes slipped shut. He had never felt so tired, not even after he had toured the territory. The world around him faded to a low, dim buzz, and even holding himself stiff as a board so as not to aggravate his injuries, sleep tugged softly at his pelt and spun him away into a world of dreams.

* * *

Littlepaw dreamt of fire and smoke, and the rush of wind over the moor. There was more, a battle, maybe, or a cat whose face he knew, but when he woke that was all he could remember. The den was empty, no one was there save himself and Brownpaw. He shifted sleepily and became suddenly aware of something damp and pulpy plastered across his pelt. He sniffed at it; all along his side was a mash of plants, orangish-brown, clinging stickily to his fur. There was even a bit across his nose.

He turned at a sound behind him. Brownpaw, too, was awake; he had had far more plant mash applied by the medicine cats, and his gaze was still faintly hazy with pain.

"Hi, Brownpaw, yawned Littlepaw, reaching his front paws out in a wake-up stretch.

Brownpaw did something strange, then.

His ears flattened. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. And he spoke.

"Hi, Littlepaw," he mewed, slowly, hesitantly.

Littlepaw stared as though he'd seen a ghost. Brownpaw's ears flattened further. "I can talk, you know," he muttered.

"Then... but... then..." Littlepaw stammered. "Why - why don't you - "

"Well, I can't," he whispered hoarsely, "mostly."

"Wh... wh-what do you mean?" stuttered Littlepaw, dumbfounded.

"It's... it's like... like there's something in my throat, so I can't talk," Brownpaw explained uncomfortably, not meeting his brother's eyes. "Most of the time."

"Why is it just most of the time?" Littlepaw inquired slowly, mind spinning.

"Talking is scary," Brownpaw admitted, fiddling nervously with a clump of moss. "But not if it's you. Or Mom. Or Wetpaw. But if it's someone else, I can't talk. I just can't."

Littlepaw could only stare, gradually absorbing the weight of this new information. All along Brownpaw could speak... all this time!

"Don't tell anyone!" mewed Brownpaw hastily, yellow eyes flashing up to meet his brother's, brimming with something akin to panic. "They'll think I'm just lying! Please, Littlepaw?"

"I won't!" The words burst from the young tabby's lungs before he could even think about them, and he added quickly, "I won't, Brownpaw. Promise. And you can talk to me whenever you want. Okay?"

"Okay," Brownpaw purred, and the smile curling his muzzle was unlike anything Littlepaw had ever seen, blooming across his face like a flower spreading its petals. The weight of the battle faded away for a moment, all the shame and hurt, and there was only the two of them, curled in a beam of sunlight, happy.

* * *

**A/N: This is shorter than the last chapter? Huh. Felt longer. In any case... what Brownpaw has is an actual thing. It's called selective mutism, and is usually correlated with social anxiety disorder. (If I've portrayed it inaccurately, I apologize to anyone reading this who has social anxiety disorder or selective mutism.) Anyway, since he only speaks around family members/people he's very close to, I think it's reasonable that others thought he was entirely mute, considering in a Clan you're nearly always surrounded by Clanmates.**

**Next chapter: rats.**


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